


Maps (they don't love you like i love you)

by theaa



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, implied previous domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-08 03:45:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7742104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theaa/pseuds/theaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s none of his business, and Sansa’s just as likely to ignore him or slam the door in his face, but he’s heard her now and he can’t just leave her to cry in the bathroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TW for implied previous domestic abuse - please be safe. This is a transfer from Tumblr!

Jon’s messenger bag slips off his shoulder and drops to the smooth hardwood floor of the Stark entrance hall. Kicking off his shoes, Jon shucks off his jacket and adds them to the pile, before padding over to the kitchen. He’s met with the sight of Arya perched on top of the island, a jar of nutella and a spoon in hand, bare legs swinging over the edge of the sparkling counter top. She licks off a last bit of nutella and grins at him. 

‘Hey, Jon.’

‘Your Mum would have kittens if she saw you doing that you know.’

She shrugs. ‘I’ll hide the jar.’

Jon just shakes his head fondly. ‘Is Robb in?’

‘Nope. Soccer practice. I think - maybe. Anyway he isn’t home. Bran’s playing computer games in the next room. Osha’s out with Rickon. Mom and Dad are at a work party.’ She wrinkles her nose ‘and Sansa’s upstairs. She didn’t even say hi when she came in from college.’

‘She probably just has homework,’ Jon tries. He’s always the one trying to mediate the Stark sisters fallouts. Well, mostly the one trying to calm Arya down. It’s the same thing. 

Arya sniffs. ‘Whatever. I’m used to it. Anyway, Robb’s not home for like, half an hour.’

‘Oh.’ Jon wonders how me managed to get his timings mixed up. He’s sure that he and Robb agreed to hang in the evening, but perhaps Robb just forgot about practice. It wouldn’t be out of character. ‘What are you up to then?’

‘Hate to disappoint but I’m going over to Gendry’s soon.’

Jon’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘Like a date? Be careful Arya. Remember, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.’

Arya snorts, her elfin face creasing with laughter. ‘It’s not like that. And if I wanted the Big Brother Talk I’d go to Robb. Honestly, Jon - I can take care of myself.’

‘I know you can.’

The spoon Arya was eating off drops into the now empty jar and Arya slides off the counter top, landing lightly on her bare feet. ‘I’ve gotta change. I wouldn’t interrupt Bran - he’s on some winning streak. You can wait for Robb in his room, if you want.’

Feeling slightly dismissed, Jon only nods. ‘Ok.’

Arya sends him another grin and then scampers out of the kitchen. Jon follows more slowly after her, hearing her bedroom door slam. He makes his way to the floor that Robb and Sansa share. The two eldest share a bathroom too. Arya and Sansa had shared the floor below but after too many fights over bathroom hogging to count Catelyn had finally lost her patience and made Bran and Sansa swap rooms. 

He’s just about to push open Robb’s door and wait until his friend arrived when he pauses. There’s a distinct snuffling noise coming from behind the bathroom door, a soft wet sound, followed by a deep shuddering, someone trying to control their breathing. Someone trying to stop crying.

It’s none of his business, and Sansa’s just as likely to ignore him or slam the door in his face, but he’s heard her now and he can’t just leave her to cry in the bathroom. 

He raps his knuckles lightly on the wooden door and immediately the snuffling noise turns to a panicked intake of breath. 

‘Robb, is that you?’ comes Sansa’s voice, high pitched and cracked.

Jon coughs awkwardly, knowing that he is probably not the person Sansa wants to talk to about whatever’s going on. ‘Uhm, no, it’s Jon. Robb’s not home. Listen, Sansa, is - is everything ok?’

He hears a tap turn on, the splash of water, a few more snuffles, and then to his surprise the lock on the door slides free and Sansa cracks the door open. Jon is too shocked to do anything when Sansa reaches forward to wrap her fingers around his wrist and yanks him into the bathroom, before quickly closing and locking the door again behind them both.

‘Sansa?’

She turns away from the door slowly, her red hair sliding around her shoulders. When she finally faces him, Jon can’t stop the language that forces its way through his lips.

‘ _Fuck_. Fuck. Sansa. What happened?’

The right side of her face is red and swollen, the purple of a bruise already beginning to bloom across one high sharp cheekbone in painful scalloped edges. At the centre is a line of broken skin, though the bleeding has stopped by now. Sansa brings her fingers up to gingerly touch the sensitive area.

‘It looks bad, doesn’t it?’ she asks miserably. 

‘Sansa! How did this happen?’ Jon steps forward, ignoring her question to gently bring her hand away from her cheek. He inspects the blemished skin himself, calculating the bruise. Sansa stares at her feet while he examines her, not saying anything, and her silence makes him feel ill. 

‘Sansa, please tell me what happened,’ he says gently, like he’s talking to an injured animal, an lame deer that might try and bolt at any minute. 

‘It was an accident,’ she says finally. ‘I’m sure he didn’t actually mean to, it just happened. We were arguing, rumours about him and Margaery, and he pushed me, and I tripped and twisted backwards, hit the dresser in his room.’ 

Her eyes shift upwards from her feet when she’s done talking, and Jon doesn’t know what to say, a fierce anger at Sansa’s boyfriend uncurling in his stomach, closing up his throat. Her eyes are big and blue and awash with unshed tears that glisten now he’s close enough to see them. 

‘Sansa, that’s awful. He should never have laid a hand on you,’ is all he manages to choke out. 

Her eyes drift away again, staring resolutely at the towel rack this time instead of Jon’s face. ‘I was pressing him about Margaery, I was frustrating him. I should have let it go.’

The anger flares again and Jon wants to force Sansa to look at him, but he won’t. He won’t touch her at all. Not that he would _ever_ , but he promises himself anew that he’ll never ever hurt a woman _ever_ in his life. Sansa is breaking his heart. 

‘No, that’s not your fault Sansa. Please don’t think it is. Joffrey is a terrible person and you didn’t deserve this.’

She begins to cry again, silent tears that slip slowly from the corners of her eyes. Jon steps away as she reaches to brush them off her cheeks.

‘I’m going to break up with him,’ she says, her voice small and cracked, but more determined than before. 

‘Good.’

‘I just don’t know what to do about my face!’ She’s crying openly again, like she can’t stop herself. ‘Everyone’s going to be so shocked and Robb’s gonna freak out, and he’s gonna _kill_ Joffrey, and Mom and Dad are gonna - oh god I don’t know, but it’s going to be _awful_. And everyone’s gonna know.’ 

Jon feels worst than useless, because everything she said is probably true, and he can’t do anything about it. He’s used to seeing Sansa, prim and proper, immaculately dressed, eager to please, with a smile ready for everyone. Not like this, not in _pain_. 

‘Everyone will know what an utter dick he is,’ he says instead.

Sansa lips twitch in a sad attempt at smile, which fades quickly. ‘I suppose. He might loose his place on the team,’ she adds, more hopefully.

‘I’ll make sure of it.’

There’s a snort of laughter amongst her tears, like she doesn’t believe him, but Jon knows with combined pressure on Coach Sandor Clegane from Robb, his star player, and his own pressure on the Principal Stannis Baratheon, Joffrey stands a good chance of being dropped. He’d do everything to make it happen. Joffrey’s dream of a sport scholarship could go die in a ditch somewhere, for all he cared. 

‘I was scared you were Robb, I didn’t want to tell him,’ she admits. ‘He’d go charging off without thinking and do something stupid, I’m sure of it.’

Jon silently agrees that it was probably best that he found her first, because Robb would without a doubt act first and think later if he didn’t have anyone standing in his way. 

‘I didn’t know what to do. I just came straight upstairs after I got home.’

‘You planning on staying in here forever?’

Sansa makes a noise halfway between a laugh and more crying. ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

‘You shouldn’t hide, Sansa. This is not a reflection on you.’

He desperately doesn’t want Sansa to blame herself, but he knows she will.

‘Everyone knows he’s horrible, and a cheat, and a bully. I was stupid staying with him!’

‘No, you just give everyone the benefit of your doubt, Sansa. It’s not a bad thing.’

She moves to perch on the edge of the bath, white knuckles clinging to the ceramic lip, her hair a red velvet curtain around her face. He hears a sniffle and his heart drops again. He crouches in front of her and gently pushes a section of her hair away from her face, tucks it behind her ear. She looks up at him through thick eyelashes and sighs.

‘I’m sorry for dragging you in here. I know I’m not your favourite.’

Jon shrugs. Sansa and he had never been as close as he was with the other Stark siblings. true; but Sansa had always liked to do things her way, and he respected her for that. When she was younger, and in a mood, she used to accuse him of being Robb’s lapdog, and turn her nose up when he was around. But she was just jealous of someone taking away from her big brother’s attention, and she’d mellowed out over the years. Nowadays it was more that he just wasn’t sure that they had much in common. That didn’t mean he didn’t care about her or want to help her if he could. 

‘Don’t be stupid, there’s no need to apologise.’

‘I don’t think I could face anyone else in my family right now.’

Jon’s heart constricts a little, a pleasant gentle feeling, because had she just implied he was part of her family?

‘I get that.’

A few steadying breaths later and Sansa pushes herself upright off the bath and moves over to the sink, staring at herself in the mirror. Jon moves behind her and looks at their shared reflection. The bruise of her injury looks angry against her ivory skin. He places his hand on her shoulder and gives it a tiny squeeze.

‘Robb will be home soon. Do you want me to be there when you tell him?’

Sansa’s eyes meet his in the mirror, and she nods.

She turns around suddenly and Jon doesn’t have time to step away from where he was behind her, before Sansa is placing a small kiss on his cheek. 

‘Thank you, Jon.’

He slim arms curl around his waist in a hug. He’s not sure he’s ever even hugged Sansa before, although he’s embraced all her siblings often enough. For a second it shocks him, before he wraps his arms around her and rubs his hand across her back in what he hopes is a comforting manner. 

She lets out a breath against his shoulder where she’s tucked her head to lay across his chest. She feels so small and fragile, until she tightens her hold a little, trying to draw some of his strength into herself, he thinks. 

‘Ok?’ he asks.

Sansa nods and extracts herself from his arms, straightening her skirt, brushing imaginary lint off her jumper. ‘Ok.’

Jon turns to unlock the bathroom door. The feeling of Sansa’s hand stealing into his own makes his fingers slip on the door handle, but he grips her hand back, forcing himself into a calmness that he hopes will radiate through their joined hands to reassure Sansa too - just as they hear Robb traipsing up the stairs. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: implied previous domestic abuse. As always, be safe.

Jon finishes his shift at the garage, loads into his old beaten down car, and starts the short drive towards the local school. The car may look half dead, discoloured paint and covered in dents, but thanks to Jon’s part time job and knowledge of engines it actually runs pretty smoothly, he’s proud to say. It’s a Wednesday, middle of the week, the one afternoon Jon doesn’t have class. Robb normally drives everyone home, but he has practice, one he actually remembered to tell Jon about this time, so had asked Jon to fill in instead. Jon's been instructed to pick up everyone apart from Sansa, who Robb told him had extra dance lessons after college and would catch a lift with a friend later. There’s a weird feeling of disappointment when Robb tells him that. He hasn’t seen Sansa since the afternoon in the bathroom a week ago and often when he’s at work, fiddling with some car part or other; or studying, reading and rereading the same passage, he gets distracted by anxious thoughts of how she’s holding up. 

He pulls into the school’s lot and lets the engine tick over, waiting for Bran, Rickon and Arya’s shaggy heads to appear amongst the steady stream of pupils making a break for it from the school doors.

The click of the passenger seat door opening makes his head twist and he turns to watch Sansa drop into the seat next to him. Her right cheek is an ashy purple in places now, a sick and sour yellow in others. Jon can tell she’s applied a layer of concealer over the top and it covers some areas, but not all, and the bruise is an ugly mark on her perfect skin.

‘Hey,’ he says, trying to hide his shock at her quiet entrance. ‘you alright?’

She gives him a withering glance, which, ok, he wasn’t expecting, but it’s fair enough reaction to a stupid question. Of course she’s not alright.

‘How’s school?’ he tries again.

‘ _Horrible_. Everyone’s talking about me - I can hear the whispers every time I walk down the corridor. God, it’s like I’m some _fallen woman_ or something. Half the football team hates me because they kicked off Joff and the other half only doesn’t because Robb threatened them to be nice to me. I feel so _humiliated_.’

‘Ah.’ Jon swallows thickly. He can’t really bring himself to feel sorry about the fact that Joffrey’s been dropped from the team, but he is sorry it’s causing trouble for Sansa. He hadn’t really thought about that outcome - figured everyone hated Joffrey as much as he did and would be relieved to be shot of him, football team be damned. Unfortunately there seems to be more than one asshole left on the team after all. 

‘Joff wasn’t even their best player, they’ll get over it.’

Sansa shrugs miserably. ‘In a few months maybe.’

She looks so sad, hunched over in the passenger side, hands clasped in her lap, playing with the delicate silver rings on her thin fingers. 

‘It’s school, something else will come along for people to gossip about soon, you know it will.’ 

Jon doesn’t think he’s doing a good enough job of being reassuring, but he’s trying. He’s reminded painfully of the time when he was the centre of the school rumour mill, back when he was fifteen and his mother was ill and everyone would tiptoe around him and whisper words like ‘cancer’ and ‘orphan’ and Jon had to pretend like he couldn’t hear any of it, until his Mom recovered and the whispering stopped. That was different though - the gossip back then was mainly just people feeling sorry for him. Uncomfortable, sure, but no-one actively hated him. 

Sansa huffs out a breath. ‘Whatever. Anyway, I couldn’t face dance today, Margaery’s there and she’s been _so nice_ since it happened, like she’s trying to make up for it something. It’s weird.’

Before he can answer there’s a sudden clamouring noise outside the car and the passenger door is wrenched open with shouts of Arya loudly claiming ‘Shotgun! I call shotgun!’ - to Bran and Rickon’s combined groans. The triumphant smile on Arya’s face slides off when she sees Sansa already there, but to Jon’s surprise she doesn’t complain, only sighs and moves to the back door.

‘Shove over Rickon, will you?’ she grumbles, before sliding in behind Sansa. 

The drive home is mainly Rickon babbling about his day, and his inane chatter makes Jon smile. Beside him Sansa has collapsed into silence, and Jon can see through his mirror Arya shooting her concerned glances the whole ride home. When they pull into the driveway she slips out the car quickly and hurries inside before he can say anything. Jon lets her go and sees the boys inside, but he catches Arya by the crook of her elbow and stops her from following.

‘Hey, wait,’ he says, a crease forming between his eyebrows. ‘How’s Sansa been doing? What have your Mom and Dad said?’

Arya sighs, fiddling with the straps of her rucksack. ‘It’s all a bit shitty. Everyone in school is talking and it’s upsetting her even though she pretends like it isn’t, and last night Mom was talking about making her transfer and then they ended up yelling at each other, and Dad had to break them up. It wasn’t pretty.’

‘Oh. Fuck. That’s not good.’

‘Yeah.’ She sighs, looking up at Sansa’s window. ‘Thanks for the ride. Listen, if you want, maybe you could go up and talk to her about it? I’ve tried, but I’m not sure it’s something she wants to talk about with her little sister you know? And Robb can’t hear anything without looking like he wants to punch someone’s lights out to be honest.’

Jon frowns. ‘If you think I can help?’

Arya shrugs. ‘You always help me. I’m sure you can.’

Jon’s knock on Sansa’s bedroom door is light and he hears a sigh and movement inside before the door swings open on a blank faced Sansa, earphones in and music loud enough for Jon to hear playing.

When she sees him the blank expression slides off to be replaced by surprise and she shuts off the music, which had been some variant of heavy rock - not what he expected - and pulls out her earbuds. 

‘Hey,’ she says slowly.

Jon shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. ‘Hey yourself.’

‘Uhm, come in?’

He’s never been in Sansa’s room before. It’s nothing like Arya’s messy space. Jon gets the impression that everything in here is neat and immaculately ordered. A big double bed takes up most of the room, with a plush cream headboard and copious throw cushions, the one at the front embroidered with a curling ‘S’. There’s a desk where Sansa’s textbooks are spread out, and a window seat with yet more pillows, and a door to what he assumes is a walk in wardrobe. Which would explain the lack of clothes strewn across the floor like in Arya’s. That and their total different personalities. 

‘I just wanted to make sure you were okay,’ he starts, and Sansa’s face crumples, but he ploughs on. ‘Arya mentioned your Mom was talking about a transfer?’

‘Not gonna happen,’ she says quickly. ‘The only thing worse than going to school at the moment would be the embarrassment of being pulled out to go somewhere else.’

Jon nods. ‘I’m sure she won’t do it if you’re not happy.’

‘She’s worried about me. She doesn’t know what to do, I think.’

‘That’s understandable though, right?’

‘Yeah. It’s just, I wish everyone would leave me alone, you know? Give me a bit of space.’

Jon feels uncomfortable. He shouldn’t have listened to Arya, it was clear Sansa didn’t want company when she left the car so quickly. He already feels out of place in her beautiful bedroom, and he begins to edge towards the door, before seeing Sansa’s face soften. 

‘Sorry, not you. Mom. Arya. Everyone at school. It’s a bit much, is all. I used to like attention, but it turns out, not this kind,’ she says ruefully.

‘I meant what I said in the car, in a while your face will heal and everyone will move on to talking about something else, I promise.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know. I know deep down you’re right. Thanks for checking up on me. And thanks for the day in the bathroom. I was a mess. I’m sorry you had to witness that.’

‘There’s nothing to forgive, don’t be stupid.’

‘Still,’ Sansa presses. ‘Thanks.’

She moves over to the bed and drops to sit on the end, patting the space next to her, an obvious invitation for him to join her. He moves over to her awkwardly and settles onto the bed. The top she’s wearing is a pretty shade of cornflower blue to match her eyes. Her hair is soft and loose again, hanging in a straight curtain around her face. He sort of wants to touch it.

‘Did you wanna stay?’ she asks him quietly. ‘I’ve got homework but I can’t really concentrate. I thought we could sit and talk for a bit instead or something. I’m sure you can stay for dinner.’ She blinks and her face falls a bit. ‘That is of course if you’re free?’

Jon thinks of his own coursework and his Mom waiting at home, but he finds himself shaking his head and promises himself he’ll  send his Mom a text instead. ‘No, I’m good.’

There’s a beat of silence where Sansa gives him a soft smile, but there’s a touch of awkwardness in the air. Jon’s reminded of his previous thought in the bathroom, where he reflected that he wasn’t sure how much they had in common these days. He catches on his earlier surprise at the music coming from her headphones - he’d imagined her to be a strictly Top 40 kind of girl, which was fine of course, but perhaps he’d been wrong.

He gestures towards her iPod, now slung between them across the bed. ‘What were you listening to earlier?’

“Oh,’ Sansa blushes and picks up the mp3 player, scrolling through the artists. Jon can hear the click of the wheel. It’s an old iPod classic, scratched across the screen. It’s vaguely familiar and Jon thinks it might have been Robb’s once upon a time. When he mentions as much, Sansa nods. 

‘Yeah. He was gonna throw it, but I rescued it. It fits all my music on it and it’s good when I go running - I can have all my playlists on it and not worry too much about it slipping off or anything, since it’s already kind of ruined.’ She seems to find what she was looking for and hands him an earbud, putting one in herself.

Jon leans in and takes it from her, and the same song from earlier starts to play. It’s a female singer, screeching across sliding guitar riffs and crashing drums. 

‘This is good,’ he says, trying hard not to sound surprised. ‘Like, really good.’

Sansa looks at him sideways with the biggest smile he’s seen from her in a while. ‘What did you think - that I listen exclusively to The Jonas Brothers or something?’

‘No, I just –’ he flounders, trying to backpedal, and Sansa laughs. 

“This is on my ‘angry’ playlist. It’s the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Don’t you know them?’

Jon shakes his head sheepishly. Now he feels dumb. Sansa giggles again. ‘You should listen, you’d like them.’

He already does. There’s a unbridled strength to the woman’s voice that really catches his attention. They listen to the whole song through and a few more that Sansa chooses carefully for him, both of them laying back on the bed, the earphones threading between them, joining in the middle. Jon’s legs hang off the end of the bed slightly, and he kicks off his shoes. Sansa smiles and rolls over towards him after the songs are done. 

‘This is nice,’ she says. ‘Joff and I never used to do stuff like this.’

Joffrey’s name makes Jon roll towards her, ready to insult him again, but the movement brings him closer to Sansa than he thought and the words slip past him. Curled upwards in a smile, her lips are the prettiest shade of pink. The headphone falls out of his ear, and he doesn’t notice. 

Sansa moves towards him and presses him a soft kiss that makes his lips tingle. He loops an arm around her waist, dragging her across the bed so he can kiss her more fully. The iPod is trapped uncomfortable underneath them, but he hardly pays it attention. Her breathy little satisfied exhale makes his stomach swoop, and this isn’t what he expected to happen, hadn’t really even seriously entertained the thought, but it’s the sweetest feeling. As kisses go it’s fairly chaste, just the bare hint of Sansa’s tongue running along his bottom lip, but enough to send his head spinning.

‘Hey Sans, I wanted to talk to you about the football team, I–’

It’s Robb’s voice that makes them spring apart. Jon rolls over onto his back to see his best friend, still sweaty from training, staring down at the two of them from the open doorway, his eyes wide, shocked and confused.

Sansa bolts upright. ‘Robb! Uh, I - we –’

He shakes his head, roughly, too quick. ‘Whatever. Forget it. Never mind. Jon, I’ll….’ he trails off and shakes his head again and Jon can’t even look him in the eye. Robb turns on his heel and a second later both he and Sansa flinch at the sound of his bedroom door slamming. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first song they listen to is Date With The Night by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. The others I imagine to be Gold Lion, Zero, Soft Shock, Y Control, Sacrilege and Cheated Hearts. 
> 
> You know, if you were interested. They’re kinda my fave band and I think Sansa would enjoy them when she was in an angry mood, and I wanted to highlight the fact that Jon and Sansa don’t really know each other too well.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: implied previous domestic abuse. Much less referenced than previous chapters, however.

Robb finds him before school the next morning. Jon’s busy shoving history textbooks into his bag, thinking about the awkward way he said goodbye the night before after Robb’s interruption, declining Sansa’s offer to stay for dinner. It was rushed and kind of awful of him to run off so quick, but Robb had spooked him and he didn’t fancy being stared down across the diner table for the rest of the night. He’s just agonising over all this when he feels a hand gripping his shoulder, spinning him around. 

‘We need to talk.’

The steely determination on Robb’s face makes Jon freeze. ‘Uh, sure,’ he says, trying to act casual, even though he’s sure Robb’s about to rip into him. ‘Gimme a sec.’

Foot tapping impatiently on the linoleum, Robb waits until Jon’s done with his locker and then drags him into a nearby music practice room. When they’re inside Robb rounds on Jon, arms crossed tightly across his strong chest, eyebrows digging into a harsh frown.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Robb snaps, tone harsh enough to make Jon flinch. 

Jon feels a little unsteady on his feet. He’s used to seeing Robb angry, but not at him. Usually if Robb’s angry, that means Jon is too; they’re a united front. Always. 

He should apologise, he knows. Robb’s expecting him to apologise - but the problem is he doesn’t particularly want to. He doesn’t regret what happened, only that Robb walked in on the wrong moment. Sansa’s soft skin, his hand heavy on her waist, lips on hers… God, he doesn’t regret any of it. In fact, he really wants to do it again. 

When he says nothing in reply, Robb sighs and the furious expression slips off his face, although his arms remain tightly crossed. He looks resigned more than angry now, he thinks. Perhaps Robb feels as uncomfortable with fighting as he does.   

‘Jon, look, sorry I didn’t meant to yell at you. It’s just…. what the hell is going on? You and Sansa? Since when? Excuse me, did I miss something or-?’

Jon blinks at the barrage of questions. ‘Me and Sansa, yeah,’ he replies. ‘And nope, I’m pretty sure you caught everything.’

It’s the wrong time to be snarky. Robb’s face clouds over again and Jon regrets his words immediately. He shouldn’t have jumped to the defensive so quickly.  

‘Jon, what the fuck? You know what’s going on with Sansa at the moment - she’s going through hell in school, and has already been through worse with that prick Joffrey. She’s sad and vulnerable and you think now is the time to make a move on her and make jokes about it?’

There’s the buzz of the school bell signalling the beginning of attendance taking, but both boys barely look up from where they’re squaring each other off. Jon’s hands ball into fists at his side.

‘I’m not ‘making a move’ on her, Jesus Christ! I know she’s hurting, I was there the other day in the bathroom, remember?’

Robbs scoffs, his cheeks heated. ‘I remember. You two seemed awfully close when I came up the stairs and you told me about Joffrey. Did you kiss her then too?’

‘Fuck you, Robb. Fuck you for thinking I’d take advantage like that,’ Jon spits.

There’s a beat of silence and Robb seems to back down a little, his cheeks flushing again, this time with a tinge of embarrassment.

‘Sorry. _Fuck_ ,’ Robb swears, reaching behind to rub his hand over his neck. ‘Of course you wouldn’t. It’s just… I don’t know, it makes me uncomfortable.’

Jon’s face remains stony. ‘Because she’s your sister or I’m your best friend or both?’

Robb’s hand releases from his neck and swings through the air brusquely, underlining his words. ‘Neither! It’s just I don’t think Sansa’s in the right place to be dating–’

‘We’re not dating,’ Jon interjects. He doesn’t know if that makes it better or worse in Robb’s eyes, but he says it anyway. 

‘Fine, _kissing_ – anyone right now.’

‘I think that’s probably for Sansa to decide isn’t it?’ Jon retorts. His voice is sharp and it’s the coldest he’s ever been to Robb in his life, but he means what he says. Sansa deserves to be happy right now, and if that means seeing him, and he  _hopes_ that means seeing him (and kissing him) then he’s not going to let Robb stand in her way.

‘Of course it is! I’m not her gatekeeper–’

‘Well, you’re sure acting like one.’

‘– Shut up! I’m just trying to stop her from getting her feelings hurt.’

‘Who said I’m going to hurt her feelings?’ Jon snaps. This is ridiculous – he’s only kissed Sansa once, and whilst granted it was a very nice kiss, he feels like Robb’s out of line. He feels duty bound to protect Sansa now, anyway. Hell, he’s not even sure if the kiss the other day meant anything to her - he hasn’t had the chance to talk to her about it. If she saw it as something that occurred between them only in the spur of the moment, which was entirely possible, he could be arguing with Robb for nothing.

Robb huffs out a sigh, short and exasperated. ‘I just don’t want her making a mistake!’

Jon reels backwards like he’s been punched. ‘And I would be the mistake, right?’

‘Yes!’ Robb shouts, before reading the expression on Jon’s face. Immediately he stops short, looking like he’s genuinely recovering from the shock of throwing an unexpected punch. ‘No! _Shit_ , no, Jon, I didn’t mean it like that, this is coming out all wrong–’

Jon hitches his bag higher up on his shoulder. ‘Yeah, Robb, it sure is,’ he says, before pushing past Robb’s solid frame, which gives over easily, defeated. Outside the music room the corridor is empty, all the students in their classrooms. He thinks of heading into attendance late, but he takes a glance backwards. Through the small glass square in the door he sees Robb, still standing motionless. He has a shared third period with Robb. A class he now wants to avoid. 

Jon spins on his heel, already fishing his car keys out of his jeans pocket, and heads for the big double doors, hurrying before any of the staff catches him.

/

The music from his headphones is blaring, too loud for him to even think, which is exactly the way Jon wants it. With his head buried under a car’s undercarriage, Jon goes about fixing the exhaust with a sense of mind-numbing precision. Bruce Springsteen is crooning and screaming about Candy and her Room and Jon hums brokenly along, gripping his tools tight in his hand until a sharp kick to his right leg makes him drop his spanner in shock. It clatters away from him, out of his reach. He bites off a swear word and scrambles out from under the car, ready to give whichever of his co-workers has so rudely summoned him a piece of his mind - only to realise it’s not Edd or Mormont in front of him, but Arya. She looks not unlike Robb from the morning, her arms crossed and she too doesn’t appear very happy with him. 

‘You weren’t in school today.’

‘Hello to you too. How’d you figure that?’

‘I asked Grenn and Sam and they hadn’t seen you. So what’s up? You never skip.’ Arya’s tone is suspicious and Jon sighs.

‘Arya, I’m working. How’d you even get into the back room anyway?’

‘Edd let me in. Obviously.’

Jon makes a note to talk to Edd later and remind him not to let random teenagers through to the garage whenever they want. ‘Right. And no, as you so well observed, I wasn’t in school today. I didn’t feel like it.’

Her eyes narrow and she shoots him a sceptical look. ‘You skipped and Robb’s in one hell of a mood and Sansa and Robb aren’t talking and Sansa blushes every time I say your name. Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.’

Jon closes his eyes and wonders if when he opens them, Arya might be conveniently gone. The girl was too sharp for her own good, he always knew. 

‘Gods Arya, I don’t really wanna talk about it right now, okay?’

The last thing he needs is another Stark sibling on his case. 

Arya’s nose wrinkles like she’s tasted something unsavoury. ‘Oh my God, you didn’t even deny it. Sansa? Really?’

‘Arya,’ Jon growls warningly. ‘Please, not today.’ He glances at his watch, anything to change the subject. ‘I’m trying to work. Do you need a lift home or something because I’ve got half an hour left of this shift, but I can take you after that…’

‘Nah I’m good, Gendry’s waiting out front,’ then she pauses and her face turns serious, but there’s a bit more warmth about her eyes. ‘Look Jon, you can’t avoid everyone for ever. And I’m not gonna let you avoid me, which means you have to come over at some point. Just – sort it out, yeah?’

‘Yeah, alright,’ he replies gruffly, reaching for the towel on the side and rubbing his grease stained hands on it. ‘I’ll try.’

Arya gives him a final nod and skips out the way she came. Jon has to get on his hands and knees to retrieve his spanner and he throws it back in the tool box moodily. He picks up his iPod from where he wrenched it out to talk to Arya earlier. When he smashes play Springsteen’s voice wails to life and Jon cranks up the volume even further, trying to lose himself in tortured lyrics about the working class american dream, instead of thinking about anything to do with the Starks. 

/

The dull grey light of his bedroom is suddenly interrupted by a blue glow as his phone lights up with a text message. Half asleep, Jon fumbles with the screen, unable to control the tiny butterflies that suddenly take flight in his stomach. It’s gone 12am, but there’s only one person he can think of that might be texting him at this time, even though he’s not even sure if she has his number. 

Sure enough the message is from an unknown number, but Jon unlocks it eagerly with a swipe of his thumb, squinting in the dark to read it.

_ Hey. Heard u had a fight with Robb. He’s an idiot, but mayb u shouldn’t come over for a while while he cools off :( Just wanted to say that I don’t regret it and I miss u already. This is my number if u wanna get hold of me. Sansa xoxo _

Well he didn’t exactly plan on having this conversation over text message, but he’s glad he knows it wasn’t a one off thing for Sansa. He feels a wash of relief at her assurance, like a weight lifted from his shoulders, and he realises just how worried he’d been that Sansa didn’t think their kiss was a big deal. The thought that she does causes a small grin to creep across his face, but it dies when he rereads her advice about keeping away for a while. It makes him bubble with anger that Robb’s getting his way, and Arya will be disappointed in him too. But still - ‘I miss u’ - the typed out words make his heart flutter stupidly, text slang and all.

His fingers hover over the keyboard. It’s late, but he wonders if she’s still up, laying in her big cream bed, waiting on his reply.

** Screw Robb, but I’ll wait if that’s what you want. I miss you too - a lot. Hope you’re doing ok and that maybe school was more bearable today xx **

Sure enough the little ‘read’ notification shows up almost straight away. Three grey dots appear on his screen and he stares at them, willing the message to appear faster.

_ I think it might be for the best :( School was school. Arya said u weren’t in 2day. Make sure ur there 2morrow, we can talk there xox _

Jon smiles faintly at her reply. He feels like a teenager trying to sneak around behind his parents back. 

** Deal. Anything for you, sweets xx **

_ Is that my nickname now? :) _

** It can be. You have a sweet tooth right? Lemon cream cakes? **

_ Oh yh, 4 sure. My favorite. Night Jon, sweet dreams xox _

** Night, sweets xx **

He tucks his phone back onto his night stand and rolls over, a warm feeling lulling him to sleep easily, thoughts of Sansa flitting through his dreams all night. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter’s music because apparently that’s a thing I’m doing now: Jon was listening to Candy’s Room by Bruce Springsteen, and The River. I think Jon would be into Springsteen in Modern Au - Jon’s all about that hard work ethic ordinary man vibe that Springsteen is great at putting across in his songs, and let’s be real Jon’s a bit of a hipster and rock music snob. 
> 
> Sorry this didn’t have as much Jon X Sansa but the Robb/Jon fight is important, if a little angsty.
> 
> Now I've put this on AO3, a new chapter is incoming.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, tw: previous domestic abuse. Be safe!

‘Sansa,’ Jon half hisses, half groans, ‘I have class in like, five minutes.’

Sansa pouts, but steps back from where she’d hounded Jon against the classroom wall ten minutes ago. Jon regrets speaking up, missing Sansa’s warm breath on his neck immediately. ‘So?’ Her expression is a tad petulant, rosy cheeks and full lips from kissing him, but her eyebrows dig into a frown, her mouth turned down. 

Jon sighs, glancing over Sansa’s shoulder to the clock on the wall above her head, listening to the relentless ticking hands counting down the minutes of his free period.

‘So Grenn and Pyp and Sam will be wondering where the hell I’ve got to, and if they find out about…’

‘Us?’

Jon swallows and nods. This thing between them, a month in the making now, and they were still forced to skulk about school in order to spend some time together. He’d kissed her a million times, but their relationship was still tentative at best, Jon reflected. Nothing much of strength could be built on secrets and half-truths, like those they’d been forced into telling Robb. He’d been unwilling to say ‘us’ or even ‘me and you’ and Robb’s right, in a way - Sansa was vulnerable right now, and Jon doesn’t want to feel like he’s pushing her into making anything official, so he refrains from even hinting at it in conversation. But hearing her say it, combined with the flush on her face and the glint in her eyes - it sends a thrill through him, despite the context of their conversation. 

‘Yeah. Well Grenn’s on the team with Robb, and you know…’

Sansa sighs, spinning on her heel away from him to perch on a desk instead, her long legs dangling delicately off the edge. The neat tartan skirt she’s wearing rucks up as she sits down, exposing more long leg to Jon’s greedy eyes, and really, it isn’t helping in the slightest.

‘You’ve been bringing my brother up a lot recently - every time we’re together actually. Something you want to tell me, Jon?’ she says, shaking her hair over her shoulder in faux anger. Her attempt at a joke at least makes Jon’s lips twitch into a smile, but he can tell she’s using humour to cover her annoyance and disappointment though, emotions flickering behind her eyes. 

‘Sansa….’ Her resolve breaks and she sighs, uncrossing her legs restlessly. 

‘I know, I know. No Robb. It’s gotta be a secret. I know, because I suggested it.’

‘He thinks I’ve broken it off with you–’ Jon reminds her, even though he doesn’t have to. They’re both painfully aware of the fact they’re sneaking around. 

‘–And he should continue to think that until he’s grown up a little and can act like an adult about it. I know, Jon. Plus, if the school found out it’d only be another thing for them to gossip about. It’s just - it sucks,’ Sansa finishes lamely, pouting. Jon has to agree with her. He wants to kiss Sansa some place else other than empty classrooms, practice rooms and cupboards. She deserves to be kissed in palaces, for god’s sake, not up against displays on calculus equations. 

‘I know,’ is all he says.

Sansa looks away from him, staring out the windows towards the hills that back onto the school grounds. From this angle Jon can still make out the marks on her cheek, faint now, but still a paling yellow against her skin. Seeing them stirs up the same bubbling anger as every other time, but the anger isn’t any less now that the marks are fading.

‘Sansa, have - have you seen him around? Joffrey, has he tried to talk to you?’

After Sansa had reported him and Jon and Robb had put pressure on the teachers, Joffrey had been suspended. But his mother, Cersei Lannister, was on the board of governors. She hadn’t managed to win back his place on the team yet, but she’s got him back in school, to Jon’s utter disgust. It was only Sam’s calm voice in his ear that had stopped him doing something he might regret when he’d spotted him strutting around the cafeteria at lunch. 

Sansa snaps back around to face him, her face clouded over. ‘I saw him in the corridor this morning before class,’ she says flatly.

‘He didn’t–’

‘No, Jon, he didn’t touch me, or even talk to me. He just sneered, gave me a look. I think he’s proud of himself or something.’ 

Jon huffs out an exhale, his shoulders releasing their tension. ‘Try not to let him get to you. He’s winding you up because he’s got nothing else to do now.’

‘I know that,’ she snaps, but instantly her face softens. ‘Sorry. I’m okay - really. It was fine - I mean yes, I wanted to slap him, but he doesn’t, I don’t know–’ she pauses, searching for the right word. ‘He doesn’t scare me. I can handle him.’

Jon levels her with a look, reading her pale face, looking for any trace of a lie there, but he doesn’t find any, not even in her pale blue eyes.

‘Alright. Just promise me you’ll tell someone - me, Robb, your Dad even, if he says or does anything, yeah?’

Sansa stands up again, sliding off the desk, and offers her pinky finger to him, a small smile on her face. ‘I promise,’ she says solemnly. Jon shakes his head at her fondly and links his pinky to hers.

‘You should go,’ she says quietly, after their hands drop.

‘I know.’

He makes no move to leave, and Sansa laughs gently at him, rising on her tiptoes to kiss him again. All too quickly he gets lost in the feel of Sansa’s hair tumbling over her shoulders, winding it around his fingertips, her lips soft and smooth under his. Sansa breaks away with a little gasp, and Jon blinks down at her, trying to gather his scrambled thoughts.

‘Pick me up when school finishes.’

‘But Robb’s-’

‘I’ll tell him I have ballet or dance or a tutor or whatever and I don’t need a ride. We can go somewhere.’

Jon nods slowly, although he shouldn’t - what if Robb checks up on her alibi? He pushes it to the back of his mind. 

‘Okay,’ he agrees breathlessly, because the promise of time with her, of doing something they haven’t done before, is too good to resist. Sansa’s answering smile is radiant. Then she puts her hand flat against his chest, smoothing over his flannel shirt, and pushes slightly. 

‘Now go,’ she orders, jerking her head towards the door.

Jon gets in one last kiss before he’s forced to turn and leave, and he can feel Sansa’s eyes on him as he walks away. He shivers.

xxxx

When they pull up to the small diner just out of town, it’s only just four in the afternoon. The place is a little run down, weeds growing in the cracks of the concrete parking lot. Jon swings the car into a space, even though the place is empty, and yanks on the hand break. Once he’s made sure that his old car won’t roll back onto the freeway, he turns towards Sansa, shifting restlessly in his seat. 

‘Alright?’

He doesn’t know why he asks when all they’ve done is drive from school, but Sansa nods and smiles at him, unbuckling her belt, and a feeling he now identifies as nerves dissipates slightly from the pit of his stomach. It’s silly to be nervous he knows, but sitting in the parking lot with Sansa beside him, this feels suspiciously like a date. A proper one. And dates aren’t really something he ever imagined doing with Sansa - or at least, when he did entertain the notion a little, he planned something a bit better than a greasy diner off the freeway. 

She must notice him frowning because she leans over the middle console to rest her hand on his forearm and gives it a squeeze. 

‘Well, what are we waiting for? I’m starving.’

The electric bell chimes weakly above their head when they push open the door, and they slide into a booth in one of the corners, grabbing some peeling laminate menus from the side as they go. Sansa’s foot brushes against his calf under the table as she bends over the menu, and even through his jeans it doesn’t go un-noticed. Sansa glances up at him, through her lashes and gives him a quick smile. 

‘Know what you want?’

‘You,’ he answers quickly, without thinking, and then immediately cringes at his crassness. Sansa, however, laughs brightly. 

‘Easy tiger,’ she teases, but the touch on his leg increases, and she slides her foot down to his ankle, slowly and purposefully. He never realised that calves were erogenous zones - but apparently you learned something new every day. 

Just then the waitress ambles over to the table, bored looking and tugging at her apron. She flashes them her best customer service smile when she gets close enough, and Jon hopes she can’t tell that they’re apparently engaged in a game of footsie under the table. She probably can. He flushes.

‘What can I get you?’

‘A banana milkshake and a plate of fries, please,’ Sansa answers, and Jon asks for a pot of coffee. The girl walks off with their order, and Sansa frowns at him.

‘That all you want?’

“I’m saving,’ he says grimly, ‘for college.’

‘NYU right?’ Sansa supplies immediately, and he’s surprised she remembered from the vague conversations he’s had with her about in the past, when they were discussing Robb’s college plans too. It’s odd that they haven’t really talked about it more to be honest, since this is his senior year and all, but then again, they don’t really talk about that sort of stuff. Mostly, Jon guesses, they just kiss. He’s spent more time exploring the juncture of Sansa’s neck with his tongue than he thought possible. And if they’re not kissing then they’re swapping music or talking about films or her family. It’s not like they’ve been avoiding bigger subjects consciously…. but somehow they had been anyway. Maybe it’s because if they start talking about heavier stuff it opens the door to talk about Joffrey and that’s a door Sansa likes to keep firmly closed. Jon’s learnt that she doesn’t like to dwell on things longer than necessary - well at least obviously, anyway.

‘Right,’ he answers. ‘History,’ he reminds her.

‘History?’ she repeats, her eyebrows jumping upwards. He’s reminded again how little they really know each other. A distant shared childhood, an encounter in a bathroom and a month of stolen kisses don’t immediately fill in all the gaps.

‘Yeah. Why, you surprised?’

Sansa schools her expression. ‘No, I guess not. It makes sense. I mean you love all that old stuff, old music, old films, all the old myths and legends. You used to make Robb act them out with you in the garden.’

Jon smiles, remembering long hot summers spent play acting with Robb in the Stark backyard, making Robb help him tell the the story of old legends like The Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen. Sometimes they’d let Arya join in, otherwise she’d sulk and storm off, and she always wanted to play the warriors too.

‘I used to watch you all play out my bedroom window,’ Sansa admits, her voice full of nostalgia, wistful, a little regretful.

‘You never asked to join in.’

‘No. I was an insufferable brat, and I was too proud, or scared of getting grass stains on my clothes, probably,’ she says with a wry smile. 

‘No,’ he starts to say, but Sansa cuts him off.

‘Enough. Long time ago, right? Anyway, food’s here.’

The waitress sets down the fries and the drinks and after they thank her, Sansa immediately plucks a fry from the basket and dips it into the luminous yellow sludge of her banana milkshake before popping it in her mouth. Jon’s nose wrinkles in disgust.

‘That sweet tooth is a killer huh?’

‘It’s my favourite food combo.’

‘I thought that was lemon cakes and more lemon cakes.’

‘Aside from that,’ she laughs. Dipping another fry she proffers it to him. ‘You might like it.’

He gives her a doubtful look, but takes the chip anyway - and actually, it’s not too bad. The tangy salt of the fry is offset but the intense artificial sweetness of the milkshake, and it sort of works. Sansa smiles at him triumphantly and dunks some more fries in celebration.

Jon turns his attention to his coffee, dumping several of the little pots of creamer supplied into his mug and stirring until the liquid is a pale brown. Sansa watches him in amusement.

‘I thought you’d drink your coffee black.’

‘Ugh, no thank you.’

‘What, can’t quite commit to the tall dark and handsome hipster aesthetic all the way?’ she jokes, and Jon rolls his eyes.

‘All I got from that was ‘tall dark and handsome’ thank you,’ he deadpans. 

Sansa laughs, and they fall into a pattern of inconsequential chatter. It doesn’t feel quite real, sitting across from Sansa, stealing her fries when she’s only paying half attention to her food. Since they’d started he’d wanted to take Sansa out somewhere, do it properly, but now that they are, and he’s enjoying himself, it all just feels slightly like an run up to kissing her again. Sansa drags her hair into a bun and Jon watches her catch the tendrils in her fingers, exposing her neck, and the thoughts he had earlier, about kissing it, spring to the forefront again. Sansa’s ankles, now entwined around his and rubbing slightly under the plastic tablecloth, don’t help matters.

When they eventually leave Sansa insists on paying her part of the bill, but Jon leaves a decent tip for the waitress. They climb into Jon’s battered old car again. Sansa fiddles with the radio stations, twiddling the knob until she finds a station that satisfies her, and it all feels painfully… normal. Driving, the diner, splitting the bill - like they’re pretending to be other people, a normal couple, or something.

When Sansa finally hears something she likes she sits back in her seat and clicks in her belt. She’s settled on some indie station, and the song spilling from his fuzzy speakers is one he recognises, an old Death Cab song that Sansa hums idly along to. 

They’re mostly quiet on the way home. Jon itches to drop a hand from the wheel and reach across to thread his fingers through hers, but he stops himself. The gesture feels too familiar, too much, and he doesn’t want to scare Sansa off. 

He pulls up around the corner from the Stark house and checks his watch, coming up to six in the evening. 

‘I wish you could come inside.’

‘Yeah me too.’

Sansa huffs out a sigh. ‘I’ll try and talk to him. Not about us, just making things up with you.’

‘If you want,’ he shrugs, doubting Sansa would be successful. If there was one thing Starks were, it was stubborn. A trait he himself shared. It led to somewhat of a stalemate.

‘Jon,’ she breathes. ‘Stop. I hate this.’

He leans over the handbrake to kiss her instead of answering, not knowing what to say. Sansa’s hand immediately curls around the nape of his neck to drag him closer, her mouth opening up to his. The middle console digs into his stomach painfully, but he ignores it. He kisses Sansa softly at first, but then he feels her pulling slightly at his hair and she draws his bottom lip between hers to bite at it, and Jon rears forward. There’s too much in the way of course and he breaks away, groaning with frustration. Sansa’s eyes are bright, her breathing heavy.

‘I should go,’ she sighs reluctantly. ‘Thank you for this afternoon. It was great.’

‘Yeah, I had a good time,’ he echoes. And he did - it just didn’t feel like his good time. 

‘See you tomorrow?’

‘Tomorrow,’ Jon promises, already thinking of lingering kisses and dark store cupboards. ‘Night, sweets.’

The click of the car door as she steps out makes his heart ache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sincerely sorry for the inordinate amount of time this took. Life has been busy recently, what can I say. Hope you enjoyed, and I'll reply to any comment you leave!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon's hand is forced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crawls out from the undergrowth* wow, long time no see, everyone. aus are a really great place to take shelter right now, so have this update.

Arya accosts him at his locker a few days later, her eyes blazing, her rucksack slipping from her shoulder as she pulls up in front of him.

‘Funny, I didn’t know a ghost could earn class credit,’ she hisses.

 Jon blinks at her and resists the instinct to take a step back, very wary of the anger flashing across her face.

‘Huh?’

 ‘You must be dead, seeing as dead people can’t visit their best friends… Oh no wait, you’re still alive, and you’re just ignoring me.’

 He shoves a history textbook into his bag and sighs. ‘Arya, you know Robb and I aren’t-’

 ‘To hell with Robb! Robb can stay in his damn room. You said you’d come over, or did you forget?’

 ‘I didn’t forget, Arya, it’s just difficult. Awkward. Sansa, and Robb, and-’

 ‘It’s been a month, Jon! The most I see of you is few times you drive us home, and you never stay anymore.’

 ‘I don’t want to upset Robb…’

 Arya growls with frustration and adjusts her rucksack aggressively, hiking it back up onto her shoulder. ‘Boys! You’re so stupid! I don’t see the problem.You kissed Sansa, big deal, but that’s all over-’

 Jon shifts his gaze away and picks another text book from his locker. He’s been avoiding Robb, but he’s been avoiding Arya too, not wanting to lie to her face. Arya stutters to a stop.

 ‘ _Jon_. Jon, you and Sansa are over, right?’

 Jon keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the books in his locker and says nothing. Arya makes a sharp sound in the back of her throat. ‘Well now I get it,’ she says sarcastically.

 When he looks up he expects to see Arya glaring at him, but there’s an odd softness in her eyes too. ‘If you two think it’s gonna be any easier, sneaking around, you’re wrong,’ she tells him firmly.

 Jon swallows thickly and meets her eye. ‘We’re not gonna keep it a secret forever. Robb just needs to cool off and I need to talk to him. You won’t tell, will you Arya?’

 She throws him a contemptuous look. ‘I’m not a snitch Jon, God. You can have your illicit little affair with my sister,’ she says, wrinkling her nose. ‘Just man up and tell Robb soon, so we can all get over it.’

 ‘I will.’

 Arya just rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, well, I’ll believe it when I see it. I’ll catch you around, Jon.’

 Jon watches her stalk off down the corridor and turns to shut his locker. Part of him feels lighter with another person to share his secret, but there’s a niggling feeling of unsettlement that sinks in his stomach too. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and types out a text to Sansa, telling her that Arya knows. He wonders if she’ll be angry with him, but that thought makes him uncomfortable too. He heads off to his History period, knowing that the chances of him actually retaining any information in the next hour are slim to none.

 xxx

 There is, Jon decides, far too little space in the front seat of his car to be doing this. The tops of his knees are rammed up against the steering wheel, whilst Sansa’s are pressed between the gear stick on one side and the car door on the other where she’s straddling him. Her arms are looped loosely around his neck, bracketing against the feel of the headrest, and Jon’s been kissing her for what seems like hours, pulled over in a lay-by on a hill over looking town, night falling around them.

 Sansa lips switch to slide down to a point below his ear, sucking just enough but not so hard that she’ll leave a mark. He groans under her, trying to shift away so she won’t feel how ridiculously hard he is, but all his movement succeeds in doing is dislodging Sansa from his lap so she slides further down his body. She falls backwards against the steering wheel, her legs bent uncomfortably, and lets out a small yelp. Jon’s hands slide around the small of her back and tug her forward again, whispering apologies.

 ‘Sorry, sorry.’

 “It’s fine. I, ugh, hang on–’

 She squirms in his lap, trying to get comfortable again and the movement makes Jon shut his eyes tight, trying to reign in both the blood rushing to his groin, and also the thoughts flying through his head. He’s so painfully, _painfully_ aware that Sansa’s soft woollen skirt is bunching up around her hips, leaving only her panties between them.

 Still clearly uncomfortable, Sansa raises a hand above her to push against the roof, arching her back to give her room to free her legs, at just the moment Jon’s hands settle on her hips. The sight of Sansa above him makes Jon’s throat dry. Finally, Sansa frees her legs, hissing slightly with relief, just as Jon also hisses at the way she settles against him. There’s barely an inch between them, and her hands fall to his lap, brushing against the cool metal of the fly of his jeans.

 Immediately, Sansa’s hands twitch away again.

 ‘Maybe we should have tried this in the back seat,’ she says with a half smile. 

 Jon snorts. ‘I doubt it would have made much difference.’

 Sansa huffs a laugh. The moment’s broken, they can both tell, and Sansa pushes off him, sliding back into the passenger seat. 

 ‘God, I wish we could just do this at home.’

 ‘And have Robb just down the hall?’ Jon says, attempting a lame joke. His jeans still feel far too tight and he’s trying to distract himself.

 Instead of the laugh he was hoping for, Sansa’s mouth twists into a grim line. ‘Maybe I should just move out.’

 ‘Sansa, don’t be ridiculous. This is temporary, right? We’ll be able to do this whole thing normally soon - and we’ll make goddamn sure Robb’s out of the house purely because he’s your brother and that’s weird, but nothing else.’

 ‘I could move in with you.’

 ‘As if your mother would let you. Does she even know about us?’ 

 Sansa shakes her head slowly. ‘But I’ll tell her. She won’t like it, but it’ll be fine. We could just be together without having to worry about anyone.’

 He knows what’s she’s getting at - God, he’s desperate himself just to be with her - normally, like any open, happy teenage couple, but Sansa’s overreacting. Besides, moving in together is what couples who’ve been together for years do. He likes Sansa, likes kissing her, running his hands through her hair; likes hearing her talk and seeing her smile, likes just hanging out - but Sansa’s still… fragile, and it would be much too fast. 

‘My mother would still be there,’ he points out. ‘I’m not sure she’d be much more thrilled than Catelyn.’

‘But she wouldn’t say no if you asked, would she?’

 Jon sighs. ‘Sansa, I want us to be together - so much. You have no idea. But you moving out is not the answer. It would just be messy.’

‘I tried to talk to Robb and he wouldn’t listen, just said he had to meet his friends and left. I tried telling him he was being stupid losing you as a friend over this, and he just _left_. I don’t know what to _do,_ Jon. _’_

She gasps a little, a tiny sob caught in her throat, and Jon’s heart aches. He knows that Robb’s doing it mostly out of pride now. They’re caught up in some humungously stupid pissing contest for god’s sake, neither of them backing down, and Sansa’s hurting because of it.

God, they’re both so _stupid_.

‘Come on, put your seatbelt on, I’ll drop you home.’

Sansa’s shoulders collapse and she slides back into her seat and clips on her belt, glancing over at him with soft eyes. There’s no trace of blue or black on her pale skin now, just two spots of red high on her cheeks, but she doesn’t actually cry even though Jon can tell she’s fighting tears. 

He pulls out from the lay-by and starts the short journey back to the Stark house. Besides him Sansa’s trying to distract herself too, scrolling through her phone. There’s a buzz when she slots in the aux cord, and something he doesn’t recognise starts to play, something mournful and heavy with emotion. He itches to turn it off but he doesn’t dare - instead, he turns down the volume and makes up his mind.

Sansa’s head jerks up. 

‘I’ll come in with you. Your parents will be home, right?’

Sansa nods slowly.

‘Good. We’re gonna do this properly, the most cliche thing in the world and no-one’s gonna have a reason to stop us, including Robb. He can’t throw a hissy fit in front of your parents, can he?’

Sansa’s mouth curves slowly up into a smile - a real one, one that reaches her blue eyes and makes them sparkle in the dim car interior light.

‘No, I guess he can’t.’ She pauses and wets her lips, biting down. ‘Alright, let’s do this.’

Jon swings into the Stark drive, kills the engine, and nods. Hopefully, no-one will be able to tell he had Sansa in his lap twenty minutes previously. Hopefully, Robb will stay quiet. Hopefully, Arya won't suddenly decide to cause trouble. Hopefully, Catelyn won’t throw him out. Hopefully, this works out instead of exploding back in their faces.

He knows he's asking quite a lot. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Sansa puts on is Lover's Spit by Broken Social Scene btw!


End file.
